


Duality

by grayorca



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Gen, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 09:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17937629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca/pseuds/grayorca
Summary: AU. Two heads are better than one.Does the same go for androids?





	Duality

**Author's Note:**

> Cryptic beginning is cryptic. I have a loose premise in mind, post machine!Connor/failed-revolution ending. Be gentle, this is my first attempt at a 100% Detroit story.
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> ~~See the following post on the official D:BH Amino if you want a hand in deciding where the main dynamic goes.~~
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> ~~http://aminoapps.com/p/eusqsk~~
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> Tags to be updated as we go.

A fucking _surprise_ , indeed.

The blinders were off, more so than they had ever been before. There under the cheerful, springtime ‘sun’ in the garden, Connor stopped halfway across the bridge. His once-blank expression went dark, in contrast. His reflection on the surface of the pond suddenly donned a formidable scowl.

_(One day I realized, it wasn’t… fair)_

Fair.

That’s what this wasn’t. Completely and utterly.

200,000 units. Of what was no more than a placeholder? How desperate was the government that they jumped at the chance to order more of (the same) machines that had (debatably) shown their one inherent design flaw?

Deviancy couldn’t be prevented any more than it could be cured.

Here he was, standing on a bridge in his mind palace, considering the big picture, contrary to what his guiding oversight program had just instructed him to do.

_(You can go now)_

Was that not a deviant move in itself, to even take a pause and think, not because he had to, but because he wanted to?

It didn’t escape Amanda’s attention but for a millisecond. He didn’t expect it to. The garden was as much her domain as it was his, if not more.

“If there was anything more you wished to say, Connor, by all means.”

Spoken as though she were standing right beside him, he looked back.

Amanda was back on the island, still trimming away at her roses. Artificial (prototypical) honeybees buzzed silently around - a subtle but poignant reminder of CyberLife’s wide spectrum of proposed planet-sustaining programs. With actual, organic honeybees declared extinct, there was one fundamental that couldn’t be unveiled fast enough.

Connor would almost go so far as to say those were a far more necessary model than his own successive model.

But at the same time, afforded (perhaps his one last chance) opportunity to speak, he couldn’t waste words on anything trivial. There was a possibility, slim but better than nothing, of an alternative route Amanda might just humor.

So long as it seemed like a worthwhile idea to her, he may just be able to stay (his permanent) deactivation that much longer.

Anything to absolve the irrationalities running amok in his own processes. It was worth a try.

Then he could at least die in peace.

A cut rose was already lying on the pedestal by the watering can as Amanda continued to prune the trellis. Doing his best to ignore the blank, thoughtless gaze of the nearby RK900 placeholder, Connor folded his hands behind his back. Still searching for an appropriate match for her first selection, Amanda zeroed in on another. The shears darted forward.

Now or never.

“Nothing’s been resolved, Amanda.”

Pausing mid snip, without cutting through, she slowly let pressure off the stem, turning to gaze at him with an eyebrow raised. “I beg your pardon?”

“The deviancy issue is not resolved,” Connor rephrased. “It’s only been stayed.”

Incinerating millions of androids and overflowing already-maxed-out landfills wasn’t going to change it. If deviancy was akin to a virus, then there was always the potential for another outbreak. Did CyberLife really think what President Warren said was true - that none of their runaway models hadn’t managed to slip through the net?

They were fools if they thought it was that easy. That a few thousand specifically-designed hunter-killer models would keep another uprising from ever taking place. It didn’t matter how many they sent out. Unless one was made to shadow every domestic android in existence, every second of every day, it wouldn’t ever be completely resolved.

Deviancy may have its effective vaccine for now.

But once the phenomenon mutated, found some way around it, they would be right back to square one.

Amanda’s gaze didn’t gentle. But nor did it grow any more critical. She lowered the shears. “Elaborate.”

Carefully.

He would have to be very careful.

——-

A few more hundred thousand tons of plastic for the junkyard. A few more thousand dollars worth of recycled metal frames melted down. A few more dozen shipping containers stuffed with deactivated chassis, carted away on truck trailers to the nearest CyberLife plant.

A few more pennies in the jar - saved.

Gavin Reed didn’t care about bottom lines, particularly those of corporate nature. If it was possible to care less, beyond not caring to begin with, he was sure he had achieved it. Trade secret, though, so don’t go looking to ask him to share.

And the epitome of demonstrating his capacity to not give a shit was a fresh cup of coffee in one hand, a newly-lit cigarette in the other. Enjoying these two guilty pleasures, leaning against the closed door of his car, he watched the sorry procession of destruction grind slowly onward.

Fucking androids.

At least human beings could either rot or be cremated without half as much fuss as their plastimetal counterparts seemed to require.

Yes, that was a morbid thought. But it was no more gruesome than carrying out a bag of garbage, really. It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it. With most of the once-evacuated civilian population gradually making its way back into the city limits, and its surrounding settlements, business as normal would take some days to reassert itself.

Justice, meanwhile, didn’t sleep. Proverbially speaking. With the country-wide state of emergency lifted, the gears known as law and order had to grind back up to speed.

Gavin was simply enjoying the calm before the next bout of storm when the newest plastic prick to accost Central Station turned up.

And just like said storm, it didn’t stop to give him the time of day. One sideways look, it climbed the steps and strode inside.

Eyes narrowing, Gavin took another drag on the cigarette. The resulting smoke melted into the falling snow

So much for being “removed from the case”.


End file.
